From Beth:
Typically, I start off a new student with learning freestyle and backstroke kicks. After having John see a physical therapist, chiropractor and massage therapist, I concluded that I had to change tactics. The tension in his hips was not ready to release. So, I taught him breast stroke first.
Interview with John as told to Shoney
The coolest thing is last September I could barely blow bubbles and in February I did the breaststroke for 2 and a half hours nonstop. My wife was ecstatic!
We’d gone on trips down to Mexico and it was always kind of been a bummer, everyone else is snorkeling and I’m sitting on the beach or I’m out there in a life jacket—I wasn’t really in the water.
My wife and I used to go to Lake Powell. There were all these coves and everybody else would be jumping off the boat or cliff driving. I was the one babysitting the boat, making sure the beer was cold.
Stigma was part of the reason it took so long--I’ll be the first to admit I felt embarrassed about not being able to swim. So for me to have to go to a swimming pool and take swimming lessons—that was an embarrassment.
I wanted to learn to kayak. One of the stipulations my wife had was I had to learn to swim if I was going to kayak, despite wearing a life jacket. I had always wanted to learn so this push helped. My wife got me a kayak for my birthday, so I researched swim instructors and came across Beth. Her website said she dealt with people who had a fear of deep water. She seemed like the one. I called her up and set up lessons.
I had a bad experience when I was a little kid. I was at the public pool and somebody pushed me into the deep end—I was close enough to the edge that I could grab on but after that I always had a fear of deep water. My parents remember I’d never go to the pool when I was a kid. My mom wanted me to take lessons, I took them one semester in grade school, but it didn’t click for me.
I wasn’t nervous or scared before my lesson. Even getting in the pool, I knew it was just 4 feet deep, so no worries there. She tested me and found out that I wasn’t comfortable in the water. When Beth had me try to sit down under the water and blow bubbles, I completely froze up. I couldn’t blow the bubbles at all. Beth had me do a couple drills—starting out on my stomach first, just relaxing type. She had me stand up, bend over and put my head in the water a little bit and start blowing bubbles.
I’m a perfectionist. I put undue pressure on myself, trying to do everything perfectly. After my third lesson, Beth had me describe my practice time and show her what I was doing. She said, “Don’t judge yourself--let me do that. You’re harder on yourself than I am.” It has been a great learning experience to stop putting so much pressure on myself.
A lot of learning is relaxing and trying to get comfortable with the water. We’re not all built the same. We don’t all react the same in the water or have the same mobility. The greatest thing I can say about Beth is that she adapts her teaching to what people can do. Lots of times she’ll have me do a drill and I just can’t do it--I’m tight in my shoulders or something and she adjusts the drill to fit me.
Try a couple of different instructors--the biggest thing is having a connection with your instructor. What I love about Beth is she’s very free-spirited. She’s not a drill sergeant—If you yell at someone that stresses them out--she makes it about having fun. That’s important.
One of the things I had trouble with is getting the kicks down. My wife’s a swimmer--last night we went to the pool and did a couple lengths up and down the pool. I was kicking on my back and my wife was so amazed, she hadn’t seen me swim for a while and she said, “I can’t believe you did that.”
My goal right now is to get the freestyle down. Next summer, or the summer after, I’d like to do a duathlon; biking and swimming.
The more I talk to people, the more people I find who admit they can’t swim. I’ve told people, “You’re never too old to learn.” That’s the great thing, but it’s true.
I went kayaking this summer in the lake. I would have done it before, but I wouldn’t have been very comfortable.
I’ve been thinking about learning how to ski next. Born and raised here in Colorado---everybody skis here—I’m going to try it, though right now my main focus is swimming.
Swimming is a relaxing part of my life now. If I have a hard day at work, I go to the pool and just swim. The exciting thing is going to water and being able to swim!
From Beth:
Once a wise sage told me to always begin any new experience with enthusiasm. The vibration in the energy is much higher than doubt and fear.
Lesson 7
Beth showed me how to “swim” on my side doing a scissor’s kick. At first she turned my hips for me, I let her float me, as I turned from my hips, every part of my body--except my head down, eyes focused on the center line below me. I blew bubbles through my nose and came up for air when I needed it.
The movements clicked. I could do the side kick, I was moving in the water. I was so excited and kept asking, “Can I try it one more time?” I tried it on my left side, on my right. I was so excited, this felt like swimming [without the breathing]. I felt like Beth was excited for me too. I didn’t want to stop.
Beth tried having me move my arms too, keeping my hands soft--not like a cobra head ready to strike. The arm and hand movements were harder for me to coordinate, but I promised myself I would keep practicing this. Beth helped me see that I was moving my upper arm too soon [one hand should be in the visual box above my head before I move the other]. The challenges with my arms didn’t diminish my excitement over learning to swim on my side.
After last week’s lesson I went home to my art studio and painted a boneless little mermaid, a reminder to keep my arms loose, to stay comfortable in the water like a mermaid in her element.
In practice this past week, I tried to imitate real swimmers, moving my arms more like a “classic” swim stroke. It made me move faster and felt great. But I wished I knew how to breathe without standing up, like a real swimmer. I couldn’t wait to practice this sidekick stuff.
Just as my lesson was ending, a tiny girl entered the poolroom and ran to Beth, her father trailing her. She looked like the littlest Who of all in Dr. Seuss’s The Grinch Who Stole Christmas---except in a miniature wetsuit vest and swimsuit. She hugged Beth like she had known her for years. Beth bent down and asked, “Are you ready for your first lesson?”
First lesson? That was an attitude! It was a delight watching this child’s eagerness to get in the pool. She showed zero anxiety. Within a few minutes Beth floated the toddler across the pool. The girl grinned and laughed the whole way. She seemed as natural as a little mermaid.
I thought that’s how I want to approach my lesson, my swim practice—with absolute joy and trust.
From Beth:
Cindy is the student who taught me the value in having students keep a log after each swim lesson. Her diligence and dedication to her swimming continues to amaze me. This is someone who has never been comfortable in deep water, yet the pool where she swims has a 10 foot deep end. She will not let anything stop her from reaching her goal.
Interview with Cindy as told to Shoney
I grew up on a farm in eastern Colorado. We had a well for crops. Water came out of a big pipe and went into a rocky, sandy area. That was fantastic because it was so hot in the summer. As kids we used to go and play in it, but I never learned the art of swimming.
For a number of years my time and energy was devoted to taking care of my elderly father. After he passed away, I remember thinking there’s one thing I really want to do--I want to get comfortable in the water. I want to be able to snorkel and not have fear. Throughout the years I had built up a big wall, a tough obstacle. I needed help.
I didn’t want to do group lessons again where they all launch into the freestyle. Or I’d start off floating really well and then the rest of the class would just leave me in the dust. It was always the same thing. The instructors never gave clear directions. I called around and sent some emails and was eventually referred to Beth.
I wondered, “Is this going to be the same old thing?” But, I read Beth’s profile and thought, “ Wow, she is a fifty-something woman, maybe this is what I need.” Beth’s background and accomplishments were very physical. I liked that. I kept telling myself, “I can do this.”
I arrived 45 minutes early for my first lesson. Before when I would go to the rec center to swim if I pulled into the parking lot and it was full, I would say, “The pool is going to be packed so I’m not going in.” It was a good excuse.
I went to the wrong door, the opposite end from the pool—but I kept thinking, “I need to go, I need to go. I need to be there.”
I found the locker room, got into my swimsuit and it felt like everyone was watching because I was an adult and didn’t know how to swim.
When Beth said, “Hi,” and asked me how I was feeling--immediately I thought she was a good fit for me.
Beth didn’t know at that point how great my fear was. She does a good job reading body language. I could float and swim on my back but I didn’t know what to do on the front. I could float for a couple of minutes and then I had to stand up. As we went on--being in the water face down and breathing bubbles—I was holding back. I thought I wasn’t afraid because I could put my feet down, yet I had an inclination to pull away.
I had never learned how to relax in the water. Beth could see my fear. My reaction showed her this wall of fear. She helped me overcome that. She taught me to work on relaxation, to go with the water and not just wear myself out.
I’d go to the shallow end and practice, acquainting myself with the feeling of water in different ways--under the water, having fun with it, looking at people’s legs as they were swimming or doing water aerobics. I had skipped playing in the water other than in farm ditches.
Sometimes the concept comes to me much later. I woke up one morning and thought, “You know what? My practice feels like somebody is chasing me”. Practice is not supposed to be like that. I love going to my lessons with Beth. She’s so calm and she doesn’t rush me through it---and that’s how practice should be. You are not supposed to be going crazy and trying to be a master swimmer.
I don’t know how long it took before I felt confident enough to take a lane. It was huge. I would tell the lifeguard that I was learning and ask if could they watch me.
Some days I still lock up, I’m out of sorts, so I’ll go back to blowing bubbles under water, jumping off into the five-foot area, floating face down and turning over. I’m working on freestyle, on the breathing piece. I always finish with my trusty backstroke.
Beth has a great voice, soothing and even. I stop and think, “What did Beth tell me?” I can hear her voice. She gives you time to make a mistake, then tells you how to fix it and gives you time to fix it. I go through my body pieces to re-connect, to make myself work as one instead of Pinocchio-style. Beth taught me that.
Beth recognizes when I’m ready to do something new before I do.
After each lesson I write everything thing down to help me remember. I laugh at some of the things I used to do. No wonder I didn’t go anywhere in the water.
I always thought the door was shut, that swimming was the one thing I couldn’t do and the one thing I really wanted to do. Beth uncovered so many things, has opened so many doors--over time the little things add up to a lot. She’s done an excellent job of peeling the onion.
Learning to swim is such a breakthrough for me, such an achievement.
From Beth:
Success is contagious, builds confidence and sets up a state for receptivity. Her eyes were filled with excitement like a puppy discovering being off-leash for the first time.
“I did it! I did it!”
In lesson six Beth showed me how to roll from my belly, blowing bubbles through my nose, and return back on my back. I’d tried this before and never could do it without a nose full of water—but I suddenly did it. Then I begged Beth to let me try it again and again, full of joy that I could do it! I got it!
I’ve been watching kids at the pool lately, watching how they learn. There are two tiny girls, maybe one and two years old, who jump repeatedly from the edge of the deep end into the water and swim to their mother’s open arms. They laugh in the water, look like sleek little seals. A little boy turns over and over and over, from back to front to back again, sideways top. I want to learn like a kid. I imitate them—even as they imitate each other. Turning over, making big arm movements, kicking, doing “jumping jacks” while floating on my back. Pretending to swim—this seems to work well for me--trying movements the way it looks like “real” swimmers do. Beginning readers pretend to read, why not beginning swimmers pretending to swim?
Sometimes I “channel”—try to imagine myself with the confidence of my 13-year old niece Gabriella, a champion swimmer and triathlete. When she was two and half, my sister called and tearfully reported that Gabriella couldn’t swim yet—I assured her that Gabriella would learn and she quickly did. On one visit to their Texas home, 5-year old Gabriella patiently tried to teach me to swim [she swam with the ease of an otter by then]. Patiently she demonstrated the same moves over and over, letting me practice, moving my arms for me. If I lived closer to Gabriella, I might have learned to swim years ago.
Every lesson Beth helps me adjust my head, my neck, and my hips into a more relaxed position. Relaxation in the pool doesn’t come naturally to me. She helps me move my arms more gracefully. I think of the mermaid painting in my bathroom with the floaty arms and that becomes my visual. Beth kicks my legs for me, while I float high on the water, near the of the surface.
Last week I was in the California high desert where between hikes, I delighted in the Mt. Whitney hotel pool--“swimming” under water. Carol did laps in the deep end one day, but another she huddled on the edge with the bunch of European guests—the water too cold, while I was that blue-lipped kid who wouldn’t leave the pool even when it began to rain, until forced out because of lightning.
After my lesson, I got into the car with my partner and announced: I did it! I got it! I flipped from one side to the other and breathed! The child-like; “I got it!” exuberant joy stayed with me for days.
